The Accused
by PLLHalebSpoby
Summary: Set in season 4. When the police reopen their investigation into Alison's death, they find troubling evidence that points to Spencer's assumed guilt. Will she escape from under renewed police scrutiny in one piece? Or will it all fall apart around her?
1. Chapter 1

When you are under suspicion, you feel a strong urge to defend yourself, to clear your name of the slander that is assaulting your character.

When you are accused of a crime, you have lawyers to do that for you, to make sure you are presented in a favorable light to a panel of jurors and a judge in a court of law.

But what if your mother was your attorney? And you, as her daughter, was trying to clear your name of defamatory murder charges that could have you in prison the rest of your life?

The corrupt and malicious Rosewood PD had been steadily building their case for the last two years. Piecing and stringing together pieces of evidence that corroborated to form a suspect.

Almost like mixing together ingredients for a magic potion that would wield the missing pieces of the puzzle together to paint a picture.

Spencer Hastings had already been named a person of interest almost two years previously, but with all the media circus surrounding Ian Thomas's confession of guilt, the case against her had all been dropped.

Unbeknownst to her, those same meddlesome detectives had brought in a slew of analysts, who claimed that the purported suicide note, was a fake, a device to turn the attention away from the real killer, the one truly responsible for Alison DiLaurenti's brutal murder.

The beginning of the end (or life as she knew it to be), happened during her free period between classes. She usually spent those blissful hours, texting or calling Toby, or making sure her belongings were still packed away safely, undisturbed by anyone or anything.

"Mom?"

What was her mother, the woman who usually breathed, slept and ate in her office, doing walking towards her in the semi-packed school hallway?

"Spencer," she said, shaking her head in a motion of disbelief as she came to a standstill in front of her daughter. "I was hoping I would find you."

"Why? What's going on?"

Beckoning her daughter to a bench outside, where they would be afforded minimal privacy, Veronica sighed, before she involuntarily took Spencer's hand.

"I don't want you to worry." Definitely not a peaceful way to start a conversation. "The investigation into Alison's death, has turned a corner."

"A _corner_?"

"Spencer, you're no longer a person of interest in Alison's death."

"Okay."

There had to be a catch somewhere. Spencer could see it in the gradual shift of her mother's posture, as though she were nervous, which she never was.

"They are now calling you a formal suspect in her disappearance."

And there it was. The hit that she had been anticipating, but still wasn't prepared for as she let out the breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.

"Mom, why? What did I do-"

"Nothing. The police have a way of adding things up and coming to a total that doesn't make any sense. They know that you lied about certain things that night, and that you had a fight with her, too."

"I know, but I would never _hurt _her."

"I know that, and so does your father, but convincing the police of that, is another matter altogether."

The one dominant emotion that she felt, was numbness, and an overwhelming feeling of nausea, as she leaned foreword, listening to the pounding of her pulse in her ears, as she cradled her head in her hands.

"What evidence do they have?"

At the height of their suspicions, they had ransacked her room, had gone away with some necklaces and other personal items, as well as some hair and fiber samples that had belonged to Alison, specifically a sweater that had been planted in her closet.

"The sweater. It has pieces of fibers that belonged to Alison, and it has her blood on it."

As her eyes squeezed out a fresh batch of tears, she found herself unable to process what was being told to her, as she leaned into her mother, letting her tears fall freely.

"I thought we were _done _with this," Spencer said, letting her tears of anger and pain fall freely as she tried to wipe them away, albeit halfheartedly.

"It's not over, Spencer," her mother assured her. "I still have to get copies of their evidence, find out if there even _is _a case to be worried about."

Knowing her luck and how it had proceeded to stab her in the back the last few months, she was sure the police would have found something, even if it was inconsequential.

"What do I do now?"

"Right now, I need you to come home so we can talk more about this."

Talking openly about a potential trial, wasn't something that either of them favored talking about in the middle of a busy school hour.

"Okay, yeah," Spencer said, standing up and gathering her things. "Lets' go, I guess."


	2. Chapter 2

Her parents, as two high-profile lawyers in Rosewood, were no stranger to working difficult cases, even hard ones like murder and other serious, punishable offenses.

It was different when the accused, was their own daughter.

And especially when Spencer was being accused of murder, not just some minor traffic offense.

Ordinarily, Spencer would have resisted being yanked out of school early, but she welcomed the reprieve, especially with the bombshell her mother had dropped on her.

Looking out the window as her mother's car pulled into the driveway of their mansion-style home, she sighed deeply as she got out.

Her legs resembled the feeling of Jell-O as she walked in the house through the front door, her mother right behind her, as she deposited her bag on the chair in the kitchen.

"Your father is on his way home."

"Okay."

Spencer hadn't actually seen her father in a few weeks, not since he had departed to New York for a prior engagement.

Looking down at the formal place setting on the table, she swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. She couldn't comprehend the fact that someone in a position of authority, would actually believe that she would be capable of killing Alison.

It was ludicrous.

It was horrific.

And it was terrifying.

"The most important thing," Veronica said, taking a seat next to her, "is to stay calm through this. We don't know what they have on you right now, and it's important that we don't attract any unwanted attention."

Nodding in agreement, Spencer swiped a hand across her eyes, which were bloodshot due to her lack of sleep the previous night.

"You said something about the fibers on the sweater?"

Veronica nodded, placing a hand on her arm. "It was small, but there were traces of your DNA on the sweater, and droplets of Alison's blood on the sleeve."

Feeling moisture prick at the corner of her eyes, Spencer furiously ignored the tears as she looked at her stricken mother.

"Yeah, it was my sweater. I let Alison borrow it the night she died."

"When?"

"Before, before she went missing."

Their conversation was halted by the appearance of her father. She and her father hadn't always had the easiest of relationships, but she sprang from her seat and wrapped her arms around him.

In that instant, all she wanted was her daddy to comfort her, tell her everything would be okay like he used to when she had a nightmare.

"Oh, Spencer," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "It's going to be okay, baby girl. I promise, we'll make this right."

Taking a seat with his family, Peter Hastings spread out the pages of evidence that he had been granted access to. Leaning foreword, Spencer recognized the suicide note that Ian had allegedly written before taking his life.

"Why is that in here?" Spencer asked, pointing at the photographic evidence.

"Well," Peter sighed, "this note that Ian Thomas wrote, the police don't think he wrote it at all."

"Then who-"

"They think you did," Peter said, "to cover up for what you did."

Spencer had heard of shady police work before, but this was so far beyond anything that she had ever experienced.

Either they were desperate for a resolution to a years old case, or they were embarking on a witch hunt.

Either one seemed likely.

"I didn't write that!" Spencer said, feeling terror resonate deep in the pit of her stomach, making her feel nauseated as she struggled to focus on what her father was showing her.

"I believe you," Peter said, rubbing her shoulder. "The problem is convincing a potential judge and jury of the same thing."

"What do we do now?"

Spencer was smart, but not in the same way that her parents were, not in the same way that could save her life if the need arose.

"Right now, we have to be prepared," Veronica said. "We have to be prepared for the fact that this could get ugly."

"Okay."

* * *

After their family meeting was over and done with, Spencer excused herself, ran upstairs, buried her head in a pillow and screamed.

Screaming, for her, was a release.

It released all of the bottled up energy she had, and it released all of the negatives, as well.

Then, she gathered up her clothes for that night, and left.

Destination: the loft.

Toby had gone through much of the same thing with their law enforcement, and he would be the one who would help her through this, hold her hand and tell her the very thing that she was craving to hear the most.

"Hi," Spencer said, after she had used her key to get in. "I didn't know if you would be here or not."

"Yeah, I had the day off," Toby said, jumping up from the couch when he saw her. "Hey, what's wrong?"

For Spencer's eyes had already started watering upon seeing him.

Losing these moments for a jail cell? It was too hard to even imagine, so she tried not to, as she let him hug her.

"The police are now calling me a suspect. I'm no longer a person of interest."

"A suspect?"

"In Alison's death."

Toby exhaled sharply in surprise, his grip on her faltering, before he regained his composure and held on, if possible, even tighter.

"Oh, Spence."

"I don't understand," she sobbed, "why is this happening to me?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."

Toby had gone through much of the same thing when he had been arrested, but he never thought that he would have to watch the love of his life, his soul mate, go through the exact same thing.

"Please," she sniffled, "please tell me that this is a nightmare. Please."

"I can't," he said, gritting his teeth to keep his own tears at baby until he could safely deal with them later. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"I know, I know."

"We'll survive, Spencer."


	3. Chapter 3

A night of minimal sleep, did little to help Spencer regain control of her frazzled and frayed nerves. Tossing and turning had become a nighttime ritual of hers since the heigh of the whole "A" debacle.

Spencer, of course, had elected to spend the night in the comfort and security of Toby's loft, a place where she could let all of her worries and problems disappear, and for just a brief period, be whole, be free of the constriction of all of her problems.

Of course, the night could only shield so much.

Her mother had called before she had turned in for the night, and had informed her that the DA wanted to meet with her the following day at their office.

Being just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday, her parents would be representing her while the DA spoke to her.

That was a relief.

Who else would look out for her wellbeing and interests, better than her own flesh and blood?

When the first rays of dawn began to break over the horizon, she groaned, rolling over on her side, resisting the shift from night to day.

Nothing could prepare her for what the day would bring. If the DA wanted to interrogate her about Alison, that was a bad sign and she knew it.

They were closing in, and not even her parents could fix that for her.

"How do you feel?" Toby asked, as they got up and around, getting ready for their individual days. "About today?"

Spencer shrugged, clearly not having the heart to discuss what might go down. "They just want to talk, but why even bring me in if they're not sure?"

"Because they have to eliminate as many people as they can."

"They're not eliminating people," Spencer said, shaking her head. "They already have a suspect, and it's me."

Rifling through her things that she had brought with her for the night, she chose a simple black tank top, paired it with a white, button up blazer, and simple, skintight, dark jeans.

It felt surreal, getting ready to go and have a meeting with a DA that could either grant her her freedom, or keep inching away at it strip by strip.

Fumbling with the zipper of her jeans, Spencer found that she couldn't do it. Her fingers, already struggling with the tiny zipper, were trembling uncontrollably, as her breaths came out in short gasps.

"Spencer," Toby said, appearing at her side. "Leave it."

"No, I can't," she said, turning away from him, as she fumbled some more with it, before giving up and going down on her knees to the floor. "I can't d-do this," she sobbed. "I can't go to prison, I can't be on trial. I c-can't."

The emotion that she had been suppressing since finding out about her new status in the eyes of the law, was coming out with a vengeance as she sobbed, her makeup that she had so carefully applied earlier, now running freely down her face.

"Spencer," Toby said, getting down on the ground with her, as he used his one arm to pull her close until her head was leaning against his chest, and his other arm was wrapped around her. "I need you to calm down."

"No, no, I can't, I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he said, running his hand through her hair, massaging her head to induce any amount of calm that he could. "I need you to breathe. I need you to try to _relax_."

"I can't," she said, positioning her head so it was tucked under his. "I c-c-can't. I'm so scared, T-Toby."

"Shh," he said, holding her closer. "Shh, I know you are. I know, but right now, you need to inhale," he demonstrated, "and exhale," he showed her again. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

Centralizing her thoughts, she tried to reach the mechanisms that controlled her breathing, and tried using the tactics that he had just showed her.

"Very good," he said, once she had successfully done it. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible," she cried.

"Keep breathing, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

After she had finishing getting the rest of the way dressed, she and Toby exited the loft, and met her parents downtown at the DA's office.

Toby wasn't allowed to accompany her inside, only her parents.

Bidding him farewell with a kiss to his lips, she followed her parents and the DA in charge, into his office.

It was nice, homey, with lots of family photos and mementos. None of those phased her, however, when she was brutally reminded of the fact that he could be responsible for destroying her life.

"My name is Alexander Wendell," he said, taking turns shaking each of their hands. "I'm the District Attorney assigned to this case."

"Nice to meet you," Spencer recited politely, even though she would have felt perfectly content if she had never laid eyes on the man.

"Is that your boyfriend out there?"

"Yes."

"Very nice," he said. Placing some papers on the desk in front of him. "So we are to discuss the evidence surrounding this case."

"What _evidence_?" Spencer asked, before she could stop herself.

Ignoring the looks her parents gave her, she glanced pointedly at the DA.

"Well, that's what we're here to talk about. Can you talk a little about what happened the night your friend went missing?"

Taking a deep breath, feeling like she had already retold this story a thousand different times, Spencer lunged into the tale of what happened.

"I had a fight with her right before," Spencer said.

"About what?" he prompted.

"She-"

"Alison," he prompted.

"Yeah, Alison. She thought that because she brought all of us together, she could control us, and we had a fight about it."

"Did you normally fight?"

"We were both strong personalities, and we clashed sometimes, but we never feuded or anything."

"Right. I was looking through the files and came across the interview you did the night Alison went missing."

"Okay," Spencer said, trading glances with her parents. "So what?"

"You lied about a few aspects of that night," he put it bluntly. "About drinking."

"So what, we had a few beers and we didn't want to get in trouble for that."

"Lying is still a crime, and it still raises suspicions-"

"We aren't here to talk about her deception at the time," Veronica interjected. "We are to discuss the evidence that relates to _her_."

"Right," he agreed. "There is a certain timeframe where you were gone, that no one can account for."

"I was out looking for her. My friends were asleep then."

"But," he said, fixing his gaze on her. "Why not wake them when you heard her scream? Why not have them out looking, or calling for help?"

"I wasn't thinking," Spencer said, feeling her pulse race. "I wanted to find her-"

"Or you wanted to make sure no one found her,"

"No!"

"This is not acceptable," Peter said, "you are trying to ambush her with this!

"I'm just doing my job," he replied smoothly. "And then the sweater."

"I gave her that sweater the night she went missing because it was cold. We were having a party in the barn, and it was cold."

"But that doesn't account for your DNA that was found on the sleeve, and her blood mixed in with it."

"If you're suggesting, I did something to her, I would never!"

"Well, that's really up for debate. You have no reliable alibi between your fight and when she went missing, and you have a sweater with her blood and your DNA on it."

Bowing her head, Spencer let a few stray tears fall, but she tried to control it for that moment.

"I feel like this is a witch hunt," Spencer said, through tears, "I have never done anything to suggest anything even remotely what you are saying, and to be blindsided with this, I don't understand."

"We have eliminated everyone but you."

"That's because you're so desperate that you'll convict anyone-"

"Spencer!" her mother hissed.

Shaking her head, Spencer turned her head from the DA.

The meeting ended soon after.


	4. Chapter 4

Feeling emotionally battered from her harrowing experience with the town DA, all Spencer wanted was to forget the whole afternoon had ever happened.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.

A quick cup of her treasured coffee at the Brew, had turned into an intense Q&A session with her group of trusted confidantes.

"So what did he say?" Aria asked, as she looked up at Spencer over the rim of her cup.

"Was he hot?" Hanna asked.

"Are you okay?" Emily chimed in.

Sandwiched in between the girls, Spencer smiled, shaking her head at their rapid fire questions.

"He asked me a bunch of questions about the night Ali went missing," Spencer recalled. "No, he was not hot, Hanna, and yes, I'm fine."

"What did he ask you?" Aria asked, looking quizzically at her as she traded glances with the other girls.

"He didn't really _ask _me anything," Spencer said with a sigh. "More like, _accused _me of killing Alison."

The girls were no strangers to shock. After all, their entire lives had been composed of whatever shocking maneuver A would pull next.

But when the ball was dropped on one of them, and the stakes were raised higher, it upped the ante to a whole new level.

"How?" Emily asked, "what did he say?"

"He asked me where I was when you guys were sleeping, and why I lied about us drinking that night."

Details of that night were still so blurry to her. Probably combined effects of the alcohol and lack of sleep that night, but she could remember everything that happened in the hours immediately following her disappearance.

"We _all _lied about that," Emily pointed out.

"Yeah, but they have more on me than they do you guys."

"Like what?" Aria asked.

"The fact that the sweater they were eyeballing was planted in my closet. It has _my _DNA and her blood on the sleeve."

Thinking about the specifics of the case only served to give her a headache. She couldn't even believe there _was _a case to discuss to begin with.

Armed with the knowledge her parents had given her, she tried not to panic as she tried to enjoy her afternoon with her friends.

"That's crazy," Hanna said. "You wouldn't hurt Alison."

"We all know that," Aria said, looking to the others for support, which they gave in unison with their nods.

"Thanks, guys."

The problem was convincing a skeptical DA and jury of the same thing. With no prior suspect in the case, and her destroyed alibi, she knew how sketchy she appeared.

All she wanted was to forget it, though.

Choosing to retire for the night in Aria's bedroom, was the safest bet. Those two, for some reason, had always been closer than the others, and when she stepped foot inside her bedroom, she felt herself relax.

"Okay, so do you want to watch something cheesy?" her pixie friend asked, as she crawled over to her DVD cabinet. "Or something edgy?"

"I don't care," Spencer replied, as she lounged on Aria's bed.

"Hey, help me out here," Aria said, with a small pout.

"Well, you like those black and white films, so choose one of those."

"Okay, you got it."

Choosing a selection from that collection, was easy, as Aria popped one into her player, and laid next to Spencer, watching as the opening credits began.

"So how are you and Toby doing?"

"Great," Spencer said with a smile. "He's really been my rock throughout all of this."

"I'm glad."

"I know."

Spencer had ended up falling asleep long before the movie was over. When she finally awoke, it took a minute for her to realize that she was lying on top of her phone.

Carefully extracting it from under her, she looked at her screen for missed calls or texts.

She had a few from Toby, no doubt wondering why she had gone radio silent on him, and two from her parents.

Her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, she called the house number, hoping they would be there still to pick up.

_Spencer_," Veronica said, sighing in relief. _Finally._

"Yeah, sorry," Spencer said, palming her face with her hand. "I fell asleep."

_Spencer, the DA called._

Sitting up straighter, she rubbed the last remaining bits of tiredness out of her eyes. "And?"

"You're being charged in connection with Alison's death."


	5. Chapter 5

When Spencer finally stumbled her way through the door after she had gotten herself together, she saw her mother already waiting for her at the kitchen table, their unofficial meeting grounds.

"Mom, what does this mean? How could they come to a decision this fast?"

Every inch of her was terrified-terrified of the unknown, and terrified of losing her liberty, her freedom, and her home.

"The prosecution had viable evidence that they presented to Judge Riley."

Spencer shook her head in astonishment, her tears free falling down her face as she tried to put a lid on her panic. It wouldn't do her any good, and she recognized that.

"What now?"

"They are offering you the option of surrendering peacefully, without any fan fair."

Surrendering peacefully.

Those words erupted a cold chill down her spine, as she shuddered violently.

"What do you think I should do?"

She was eighteen years old, almost nineteen.

Spencer was smart in a lot of ways, but with the legality of it all, she was clueless.

Waking up in her own bed that morning, and then at the end of the day, facing sleeping on a cold, hard cot?

It was a head-spinning reality that she had no idea she would have to face so suddenly.

"With a calm surrender, we would be able to bypass having the police find you, arrest you and haul you into the station. If we were to organize a surrender on _our _terms, it could go smoother."

Spencer had no idea how in the world it could possibly be "smooth" either way. She was terrified of jail, she was terrified of being separated from her friends and her family.

And she was scared of what the justice system would pull on her.

It wasn't like they had been exactly friendly over the years, to she or her friends.

"I want it to be peaceful," Spencer said, bowing her head as she raised a shaking hand to her eyes, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her face.

"Okay. When did you think you...you wanted to go?"

"Tonight. I want to go tonight. I need to say goodbye to my f-friends."

And Toby.

And life as she knew it.

If she was granted the day, she could indulge in her favorite things one last time. Her favorite coffee, her favorite movies and TV shows, and most importantly, Toby.

His armor would be the stronghold that she would need to get through this one way or another.

"Okay, I'll call them and arrange a time for tonight."

"Thank you," Spencer said, reaching over and gripping her mother in a death grip. "Will you be with me?"

"Yes. Your father and I will be with you when you are processed and through whatever else we can be there for."

Spencer nodded, pulling back from her mother, as she swiped a hand across her face. "What do I have to go through with the processing?"

It was better to be prepared, she figured, that way there would be no surprises when she actually went in there that night.

"There will be some blood work they have to do, to test for certain diseases," Veronica said gently, "after that, you'll be finger printed and photographed, and then more than likely, placed in a holding cell until they actually assign you a real one."

Feeling her heart palpitate painfully, Spencer nodded. "Okay. Anything else?"

"You won't be allowed to take anything in with you. No books, makeup, anything. Anything extra that you want, will need to be purchased from the commissary account that you'll have."

"Okay. What about time outside my cell?"

It felt surreal to be talking about jail, and realizing that in a matter of hours, she would be behind bars, and maybe for the rest of her life, if she ever went to trial and was convicted.

"The majority of your time will be spent inside it. But for about an hour, inmates are allowed outside for recreation, and you'll be out when you have meals and court appearances, and attorney visits are unlimited."

"You better be there all day," Spencer said, laughing weakly.

"Don't worry," Veronica said, squeezing her hand. "By the time this thing is through, you'll be sick of us."

"I doubt it."

* * *

Faced with so much to accomplish in so little time, Spencer decided to first find Toby.

She hadn't told him over the phone, only told him that they needed to talk about her case, and could she come over.

Of course, he had told her to come right away.

"Hey," he said, when he allowed her entrance. "What happened?"

Spencer shook her head, her face already a blotchy mess from crying so much, as she wrapped her arms around him in an unbreakable hug.

"I'm going to jail tonight."

_What_?" He said incredulously. "Why? Spence-"

"They charged me," she said shakily. "They had a warrant out, but my mother called and arranged a time for me to turn myself in."

Shaking his head, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, Toby pulled her in for another hug. "I'm so sorry, honey."

"I know," she sobbed, "I just need you right now."

"I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

Her first request of him was to go get their favorite cinnamon rolls from downstairs in the Brew. Those had always been a favorite of both of theirs, and she had no idea when she would be granted the right to have them again.

Next, with only a few hours left until the deadline, she and Toby treated themselves to a movie, one that was full of heart pounding suspense, just enough to get her mind off of it for a few hours.

After that, she called her friends and the four of them, plus Toby, cried together. They cried for her, thy cried for what she would go through.

But their hugs, and their support, lifted her up. It lifted her past the overwhelming fear, and enabled her to sniffle back the tears, at least momentarily.

She could face this.

And she could win.

She knew that.


	6. Chapter 6

As six 'o clock dawned, the hour that Spencer had agreed to go and turn herself in, she could feel the carefully crafted facade that she had built around herself that day, begin to wither and crack.

Her breathing, normally so stable, came out in short gasps, as she focused on even the most mundane of tasks, until finally she gave up, and resorted to a vice that had always calmed her in her most desperate of times.

Yoga.

It soothed her and more importantly, it worked out all the kinks in her muscles that were bunched and tensed because of the stress that _she _was exuding.

Downward facing dog and mountain pose, became a temple to her as she became one with her body, became one with the earth around her and what it was trying to teach her.

When she had successfully done an hour of the workout, she switched off the TV, grabbed some of her comfiest clothes and headed for the shower.

Sweat pants replaced the tight jeans she normally would have worn, and a tank top replaced the loose cami.

It was all about comfort for her, because she knew it would be awhile before she would get to feel that again.

As she ran her fingernails through her hair to work the shampoo through, she tried not to panic as she worked on taking deep breaths to soothe herself.

When she stepped out of the shower and got dressed, she tried to do it confidently, with a smile on her face, even though she was feeling anything _but _cheerful at the moment.

Glancing at the digital clock on her phone, she swallowed convulsively. It was almost a half hour before she was due to formally turn herself.

Her parents would be meeting her there, at the station.

And her friends and Toby would ride with her to the station, as well as accompany her inside. It was all the support she needed, and more than she could have asked for, as she walked out into the living room of the loft.

Toby was seated at the counter, his face an unreadable mask as he studied her carefully.

"Are you okay?"

It was a dumb question, but the only one he could think of verbalizing as she situated herself in his lap.

"I don't know how many ways I can say no," she said, as she looped her arms around his neck.

"We should get going," he said, as he glanced at the clock.

"Yeah," she admitted, "we should."

Her friends would be waiting downstairs for her in The Brew.

And they were.

Smiling gratefully, she embraced all of them, before they walked out into the cool night sky, and got in the car to drive her to jail.

It seemed surreal to think of it like that, but she had always managed to think realistically and in the moment, and this was as real as it would ever get.

As the car bumped along the road, she tried not to feel sick as she saw the approaching station.

Getting out hesitantly, she paused outside the door, wrapping her arms around Toby one final time.

As he hugged her, she tucked her head under his chin, sniffling back the tears that she had tried to suppress all afternoon.

As she hugged him, she memorized his cologne, how it smelled on him. She memorized the muscle tone of his arms that had been hardened by years of construction work. She memorized the feel of his arms, as they strongly but gently enveloped her in his care.

The soft, almost melodic way he spoke to her. His voice was the light that would carry her through the hardest of nights.

"I love you," she whispered, snuggling further, if possible, against him.

"I love you too," he said. "I promise you, you'll survive this. We always do, remember?"

"Yeah," she said, finally pulling apart from him, and giving each of her friends a hug. "Thank you for being here."

"We wouldn't be anywhere else," Aria said, her face tearstained. "We'll be here for you, anything you need."

She would need that, and she knew it.

As she walked in, she saw her parents already standing with an officer. It comforted her to know that they were there, even though it did little to ease her terror, it helped that she had her Mommy and Daddy there for support.

"Oh, Spencer," her mother said, reaching out and giving her a hug. "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you, too," Spencer said, ignoring the officer who had stepped behind her.

Her father was next, as he gave her a quick hug. "We're right here with you. Through anything and everything, you have our backs."

"I know."

While she hadn't always known that, she did now, as she looked at the love and concern in their eyes.

She knew what would happen when she stepped back from them, and was prepared for that.

The officer handcuffed her behind her back, and led her through the intermingling halls until they reached the processing and booking area.

"Okay," the stern-faced, female officer said, as she thoroughly searched Spencer for any illegal contraband she might have brought in to the jail. "You don't have anything on you that will stab or poke me, right?" 

"No."

After that, they uncuffed her long enough for her to take her belt and shoes off, and then they did the routine blood work to check for any diseases that she might have.

Even though _she _knew she was clean.

After that, they submitted her fingerprints into the new, digital screen, and took a series of mug shots.

By the time they requested she change out of her clothes and into the standard issue orange jumpsuit, she was emotionally exhausted as she stripped out of her clothes, handed them to her mother, with the officer's permission, and into the jumpsuit.

"Since we got the results of your blood panels back, we can transfer you to a cell now."

That was good, at least. Before, she thought that she would have to spend the night in a holding cell.

It was the time when she would be well and truly alone, as she looked at her parents, who had stayed with her throughout the entire, hour long process.

"We will be here first thing in the morning," Veronica said.

"Look foreword to that, okay?" her father said.

"I will," Spencer said tearfully.

As she watched them walk out the door, she was rudely brought back to the present, by the female officer.

"Okay, make sure to stand still."

Waist chain, of course.

When inmates were transferred from one place to another, it was routine for them to be cuffed, shackled and have a waist chain on to insure maximum security.

None of these people knew that she wasn't a murderer, that she wasn't some monster, all they knew was what the information said in her indictment.

The waist chain felt strange on her, made it different to walk, but thankfully, the officer didn't include the shackles, enabling her to walk freely with her hands cuffed in front, for the first time.

Glancing at the wall, she noticed that she was being transferred to cell block D, all female, of course.

Leading her over to a row of empty cells with a plain white door, the officer opened it, showed her inside, took off the waist chain and cuffs and left her.

It was a strangely isolating experience, as she walked around the limited space she had.

All of the linens she would be allowed, had already been put there. Including a pillow and pillowcase, and a thin blanket for sleeping with.

Besides the toilet and sink and bunk, there was nothing. Anything extra would be purchased from her commissary account.

With the lights already having been turned off, and warned about the consequences for rule breaking, she laid down on the hard bunk, squirmed to a comfortable position and tried to sleep.

Easier said than done.


	7. Chapter 7

No one ever tells you the bad side of going to jail, as if there are any _good _aspects to going to jail. Most will tell you that you sit on a cot (or in Spencer's case, the bottom of a bunk) with a roommate, or in solitary misery.

What they fail to mention is the first night. Sleep would be a forgone impossibility, (as Spencer became well aware of after the fourth or fifth hour of failed tossing and turning).

Not when your brain is buzzing with activity, as if its running a marathon. Your muscles, bunched in anticipation of that door opening, allowing you a sliver of freedom.

Your body, not used to the confinement, turns on you. Muscle aches, a racing heart that leaves you breathless, and legs that cramp up on you with no sign of stopping.

For most, if they can't sleep, they can pop a sleeping pill or two, and maybe even get up and make a hot cup of milk sprinkled with some cinnamon.

Not so for the inmates of Cell Block D. For some, they had already adjusted to their imprisonment, and simply took their punishment for what it was and endured it in silence.

For most, including the freshman (as more seasoned inmates called the newer ones), the harsh new reality of their living conditions, was too much.

Muffled sobs could be heard down the row of cells, some swearing up and down that they didn't deserve to be there, some shouting back that they needed sleep and to shut up.

Some laid in silence, too stunned to even contemplate raising a fit.

Spencer was one of those silent ones, as she laid on her side, one arm resting under her head, trying desperately to imitate the feel of Toby's arm when it would form the softness and security of a pillow when her chronic insomnia flared.

The other arm was pressed firmly over her head, trying to drown out the sounds of people crying out, begging for a release, begging for a pardon that would most likely never come.

"It will be okay," Spencer whispered brokenly to herself, as she squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the solitary tears that escaped from them.

It had been hours since the lights had been shut out, and darkness had befallen the cell block.

One would think it would be easy to fall asleep, considering how exhausted she was, but it wasn't at all. For one, it wasn't her bed or Toby's even, but it was a cold, hard bunk with a thin blanket and pillow as her only source of warmth.

Her breathing, normally stable, came out in hyperventilating gasps, as she wrapped an arm around her stomach, trying to keep out the cramps that were assaulting it.

She knew it was stress, she had had similar related pains before, and they eventually went away, but she had always had Toby to lean on when she was in pain of any kind.

Now she didn't.

She didn't have anyone.

She didn't have her friends to dial at midnight.

She didn't have her phone to look at pictures of them.

All she had to comfort her, were the memories of she and the girls, and of Toby.

"Please," she cried.

Her broken plea to her body for sanctuary. As the tears slid down her face, over her nose and into her mouth, she tasted saltwater as she swallowed roughly.

As her body shook with silent sobs, she closed her eyes, trying as hard as she could to recapture anything that would comfort her, make her feel less alone.

_"I love you, so much."_

The first time Toby uttered those beautiful, heart-stopping five words to her. Even years later, she could still recall with perfect clarity how her heart jumped with euphoria, how she couldn't stop her exultant tears of joy.

Sucking in a deep breath, she clenched her teeth together with an audible _snap _as she searched her storage bin of a brain for more memories of them.

_"Pretending not to love you was the hardest thing I've ever done."_

His impassioned declaration of love, had come right on the heels of Mona's unmasking as A, and right on the heels of one of their many fights during that period.

Even now, she could close her eyes and picture herself raising her hand to hit him for all that he had put her through, and how effortlessly he had blocked her efforts.

As she shook her head, trying to see past the wall of devastation and grief that was keeping her hostage, she tried to visualize herself in his arms, tried to imagine a happier, more peaceful time.

_"What we had was real." _

The words that she had been dying to hear for weeks, but feared that she never would. Mourning him and their relationship after he was exposed as A, she had met him in an off the grid diner, in her A alter ego, hoping to get some answers.

And she had.

While she may have questioned his love for her, he had never stopped loving her, never stopped his complete and utter devotion to her.

As she took a deep breath to slow her frantic breaths, she tried to remember the feel of his arms against hers, tried to remember how it felt to be up and pressed against his body, how secure and safe she felt there.

As she exhaled, she could feel her sobs slow. She was still devastated, could still feel a hole the size of Texas festering in her chest, but the pain wasn't as present as it was before.

_"Come on. We're Team Sparia."_

She and Aria had always been closer than she had been with the other girls. Her pixie friend was always there for her, always willing to lend a listening ear or a kind word when she was obsessing over one of her many issues.

_"We all know how much Toby loves you." _

Emily had always been there to ground her to earth when her mind had wandered to outer space. When her mind couldn't see past the hurt of Toby's betrayal, Emily had been right there with a reassurance that he loved her, that he couldn't be who she thought he was.

_"Please, I can't lose you, too."_

Hanna had always been the comic relief in the group. Spencer had always been close with her, even though being her friend could sometimes be a ride, it was a ride that she rode happily.

Flipping over onto her back, she closed her eyes, ignoring the muted sounds of other inmates sobbing into their pillows.

Trying to focus on her breathing and look foreword to the morning when she would get to see her parents, she tried to induce any amount of calm she could into her battered mind.

By some miracle, she could feel herself slipping into that peaceful other dimension where she could escape her fears, even if it was only for a few hours.

* * *

When morning came, the lights came on at seven am sharp. The doors to the cells in cell block D were opened, allowing the inmates to come out for breakfast.

Of course, like everything in the jail, it was closely supervised, as Spencer chose a table in the far corner of the room with her tray of food.

It wasn't good; it wasn't bad.

She'd had worse before, as she kept her head low, and tried to focus on her precious food.

"Are you Spencer Hastings?" one inmate asked, as she slid into the empty across from Spencer.

Spencer ignored her new friend, as she picked apart the rough food with her flimsy, plastic knife and fork.

It was like summer camp all over again, only this time much worse.

"Are you?" she repeated, leaning toward her, invading much more space than she was comfortable with.

"Why do you care?"

"Your father was responsible for getting me locked in this hell hole."

Taking a deep breath, Spencer kept her head low, as she chewed her food deliberately. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"And now his _daughter _is in this place?" The girl looked like Christmas had come early. "What a treat."

Before Spencer could react, the girl had backhanded her across the face. The pain rapidly blossoming across her cheek, was masked by the shock that filled her veins as she allowed herself to stare into this woman's hate filled eyes.

Before she could do anything to defend herself, two corrections officers had pounced on the girl, wrestling her away from the table as they showed her back to her cell, their unofficial timeout point.

Visiting hours had started right after breakfast.

"You have visitors," the emotionless female corrections officer said, bringing out the handcuffs and cuffing her in front.

Still in shock from the fight that the inmate had started with her, she followed the guard down the hall until they reached a conference-style room.

Her parents, as they promised her the night before, were waiting for her. The guard stepped outside once she had closed the door behind Spencer, allowing the family some privacy.

Spencer sat down across from her parents, grateful to see familiar faces, and not the stern-faced guards that haunted the halls, and her every waking moment.

"Hi, honey," her mother said, reaching a hand across the table to grip her daughter's hand, before a knock at the door, had her sliding her hand back.

"Hey," Spencer said, giving her a water smile as she wiped a cuffed hand across her eyes.

"What happened to your face?" Peter asked, motioning to her raw cheek.

"One of your clients backhanded me," Spencer said, "I take it you didn't win her case."

Veronica looked horrified, while Peter shook his head in disbelief. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Wasn't my idea of a cup of tea for my first morning here," Spencer said with a sigh. "That's for sure."

"Your arraignment is tomorrow," Veronica said. "We're going to present a strong case."

"Good. What are you going to say?"

"We're going to request," Peter said, "that you be allowed bail pending a trial, provided you agree to wear an ankle monitoring bracelet, and stay in the house."

It would certainly be preferable. She couldn't imagine spending months inside of a cell while waiting for a trial.

"We have to know, Spencer," Veronica said, "only one of us can represent you at the hearing. Which of us do you want to be in there with you?"

"I don't know...you?"

She loved her father, but she and her mother had grown closer and she felt more comfortable having her there, representing her best interests.

"Okay, it's settled."

"When can I see my friends?"

"Tomorrow. Do you have a message for them?"

Spencer nodded, fighting back tears. "Yes. Just please tell them that I miss them. And tell Toby that I love him."

"We will, honey."


	8. Chapter 8

The morning of Spencer's arraignment dawned. Predictably, the night before, she had obtained next to no sleep. Partially due to her nervousness over the hearing, and mostly to do with how new this whole thing was to her still.

Her mother had warned her not to expect a miracle, to be prepared to be turned down for bail, and it was a warning she took to heart. Too many shots had been thrown at her for her to fully trust in luck anymore, and miracles, was out of the question, too.

Because the hearing was being held in the courthouse downtown, she was required to wake earlier than the other inmates in order to prepare herself.

Her mother had come early, bringing with her a new outfit that she had bought for Spencer to wear to court.

It was a body-hugging, waist high skirt with a cream blouse to match. It was a nice gesture, and it made Spencer involuntarily tear up (for about the millionth time since being remanded into custody, she figured).

"I'll meet you there," Veronica said, smiling kindly at her.

Spencer returned the smile, though she was sure it came out more as a grimace than anything else.

Since the hearing was being held downtown, and she would have to be transferred from the jail to the courthouse, there were more security measures in place than at the jail.

To her extreme frustration and fear, she was forced to endure shackles for the first time, and also the waist chain and cuffs.

All of those restraints on her, made it extremely difficult to walk and think at the same time. For a brief second, she imagined herself as other people saw her: the monster, the girl who murdered her best friend and pinned it on her deceased brother-in-law.

It was laughable, how far the police were willing to go with this, but imagining it from their point of view, made it a little more tolerable.

Instead of leading her outside, the deputies took her to the underground parking garage. Once there, they quickly escorted her to a marked squad car and loaded her in.

It was much different than she thought. The seats were clearly not built for comfort, but were hard plastic and very little space to stretch out her legs.

Thankfully, the trip downtown was relatively short with little stops in between. Once she saw the courthouse in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief, as they drove to the underground parking garage the courthouse offered.

The hearing started almost immediately after she got inside with the deputies. They escorted her up to the third floor, and once they were right outside the courtroom, they undid the cuffs and shackles.

She was relieved about that.

It would definitely do something to her image in the eyes of the judge if he saw her with all of those chains covering her.

Once she was allowed to enter the courtroom, her eyes immediately flew to the spectator's stands where her friends and Toby were sitting near the front row.

Sparing a smile in their direction, she joined her mother at the defense table.

"You look beautiful, honey," Veronica said. "Try to breathe, okay?"

Spencer nodded, sucking in a deep breath and letting it go in a huff. Nothing could have prepared her for this moment, and she knew that now.

All the hours she had spent visualizing all the possible outcomes, went out the window as she tried to control her trembling.

Looking back at her friends and Toby, she wanted more than anything to be allowed to be in their arms, especially Toby's.

The look on his face all but confirmed that he held the same desire that she did, as he gave her an encouraging smile.

Her friends all smiled supportively in her direction. To her amusement, Hanna even gave her a thumbs up sign.

It wasn't long before the judge approached the bench. He was a balding man in his middle to late forties, and he began the hearing with a summary of the evidence in question that related to her.

"How does the defendant plead?" the judge finally asked, near the conclusion of the hearing.

"Not guilty," Spencer announced, as she stood to face the judge.

She was surprised at the tremor in her voice when she addressed the court. She had been waiting for her chance to declare her innocence, and now that she finally had the chance, she found herself freezing up.

"The defendant's plea is noted," the judge said.

After that, came the issue of bail. Veronica argued that since Spencer still lived at home, she would be the perfect candidate for an ankle monitoring bracelet where she could be closely supervised by her parents, and Melissa.

"Because of the brutality of the crime, bond is denied pending trial."

Spencer had been expecting it, but she still bowed her head and wept. It had been her only hope of getting out before trial and her chances were now blown.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her friends shake their heads in disbelief.

Toby murmured to her, telling her that he loved her. Something she got with crystal clear articulation as she mouthed those words back to him.

She was going back to jail.

It was okay.

She accepted it, even though it was a devastating blow.


	9. Chapter 9

Her loss in court, was crushing. For Spencer, it had been her only hope of getting out before any pre-trial motions, or even the trial itself. That would most likely take weeks if not months to put in motion.

Squeezing back her tears, she allowed the stone-faced guards to lead her back to jail, chains and all. The drive back didn't seem to take that long, probably because of how deep in thought she was.

Thinking had always been a source of escape for her. When all else failed, think. And that was what she tried to resort to now, as she sat in the back of the squad car.

She tried to create an alternate universe around herself where she was home, the case far behind her as she enjoyed smoothies with the girls, and was back in the loft with Toby, and his loving, strong embrace.

As the tears fell silently down her cheeks, she gritted her teeth against the intense disappointment that she was feeling, as she looked out the barred window and saw that they were approaching the main entrance of the jail.

The underground parking garage was their destination of choice, as they securely unloaded her from the car, unaware that there wasn't a need to treat her so carefully, like she was a suspect that might crack.

Her cell block loomed in front of her, as she allowed them to deposit her in there. For once, it didn't fill her with the same amount of dread it had before.

She was grateful to be allowed the opportunity to escape, to attempt sleep as a means of escaping the horribleness of what had just happened.

And to her extreme relief (and confusion), sleep _did _come relatively easy, as she buried herself beneath the limited cover space she had, completely drowning out the sounds of the other inmates.

When she was forced into consciousness again, a few hours later, it was the dinner hour. Watching wearily as the guards unlocked her cell to allow her access to the cafeteria.

It was her only source of release (literally and figuratively). When she was allowed outside the cell, even for an hour to eat, it was better than spending it eating in her cell.

Ever since the inmate had punched her, she had gone to great lengths to avoid any other future altercations, by simply keeping her head low, focusing on her own business, and avoiding direct eye contact with anyone.

For the most part, people left her alone. She was grateful for that. The guards treated her with respect, and she did the same, not willing to create any bad blood between them.

* * *

The next day, she was allowed to have visitors again. And to her extreme relief and joy, it was Toby that was there to see her, as the guards led her into the pre-arranged conference room.

Of course, they couldn't enjoy any physical contact. Not with her being watched so closely, but just sitting there across from him was enough.

It had been three long days since she had actually had any meaningful conversation with him, and she would take it, even though she was cuffed, and he was allowed to go home at the end of the visit, and she would be stuck there.

The thought clearly wasn't far from Toby's mind, as he studied her closely, clearly searching for any signs of an impending breakdown.

He needn't worry.

He was the sole purpose she hadn't crawled into a corner and given herself over to the feelings that had been bubbling below the surface.

"Hey, Tobes," she said softly, attempting a smile for his sake, even though she was sure it came out as more of a grimace than anything.

"Hey, Spence. How are you?"

There was no use in lying to him. He knew her better than anyone, and could see behind any lie that she crafted for his sake.

"Not good," she admitted, stifling a sob as she covered it with a poor laugh.

"I know. In court, all I wanted was to run there and give you a hug."

She nodded. "I saw that. I saw it in your eyes."

"How has it been in here, Spencer?"

If there was anyone who understood what she was going through, it would be Toby. He had spent several weeks in this place when people thought he too had killed Alison.

"It's okay. Did my Dad tell you that some inmate backhanded me?"

Toby shook his head slowly, his jaw tightening as that news sunk in. "Someone hit you?"

"Yeah. Someone who had my Dad for an attorney, and he lost her the case, and she was mad."

"Are you okay?"

Spencer nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a red mark is all."

She was lucky that was all it was. When he had been incarcerated there, inmates had routinely picked fights with him, and some had been worse than others in the outcome.

"Your Mom said that she's trying to get this trial sped up so that you can get out of here sooner."

"I know."

Her mother wanted the trial to be fast tracked, convinced that she already had all the evidence she needed in order to present a strong defense.

It would enable her to get out faster, and have the trial over with in a matter of weeks instead of months or even years.

"Is there anything that you need, Spencer?"

"What do you mean?"

She had an endless list of needs. But most of them, no one could fulfill unless it entailed letting her out of that hellhole.

"Anything from the commissary account?"

"Oh. That. Um, yeah, anything you can think of would be great. Thanks."

"Of course."


	10. Chapter 10

The days eventually got shorter and shorter. Spencer blamed it being on the changing seasons, and shorter days. Sitting on her bunk with her knees drawn up close to her body, she sucked in a deep breath, as she stared around her cell.

It was still hard to think about this place, this tiny room as a _cell_. A jail cell where criminals belonged, not her.

Not a straight A student who lived a secret double life of being stalked by A, along with her friends. Her friends, thinking about them was painful, it made her stay in this place far too real for her liking.

She couldn't see them.

Couldn't reach for her phone, and send them a message. Unless they chose to visit her, she was completely cut off from them.

And it hurt.

It stung.

Her mother had visited, promising her that she was working on a strong defense for trial, and that they had a high percent chance of winning, and having her home by Christmas.

That only served to depress her more.

It would be months until the end of the year, far too long to sit and contemplate her wasted future behind bars.

But, miraculously enough, there _was _a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I brought you something," Aria said, sitting across from her in that depressing metal table that served as a barrier between her and the outside world.

"What is it?" Spencer asked, natural curiosity taking over as she stared at the folder in Aria's hand.

"Don't get too excited, but it's your AP homework."

Spencer's eyes widened upon recognizing the bundle for what it was. Her homework! To most people that would be a source of a groan or an eye roll, but it was the only thing she had that consistently kept her sane.

"I can do that here?"

In a place where extras were only allowed to be purchased from a secure account, it seemed too good to be true that she would be allowed her schoolwork.

"Yeah," Aria smiled. "Your Mom stuck her neck out to your teacher, and he agreed that you could still be enrolled there, you would just have to be on a different schedule."

Obviously.

Since she couldn't attend school for obvious reasons, she had naturally thought that her education would have to be put on the back burner while her legal fiasco got sorted out.

Glancing back at the guard that had been peering in through the see through glass, she saw to her relief, that he wasn't barging in and confiscating the folder.

So a miracle had truly been dropped into her lap.

Thanks, in large part, to her mother, and her pixie messenger.

"Thank you so much," she said, shaking her head. "I needed something like this to get my mind off everything."

Aria nodded, reaching her hand across the smooth surface of the table to grip Spencer's, but withdrew it almost immediately when the guard tapped sharply on the window.

"How are you holding up?"

Spencer shrugged, her cuffs clanking together when she reached up to scratch a spot behind her ear. "Some days are better than others."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Spencer said. "It's not your fault. None of this is."

"I know, but I just want to do something to help you."

"You did. You brought me my homework, which to some, would be a source of horror, but to me, is my savings grace right now."

Aria laughed. "I'm glad I could help."

"Me too."

The rest of their session was devoted to catching Spencer up in everything at school that she had missed. Including, to her amusement, Mona flying off the handle and having to be restrained by her Spanish coach.

"And she did that _just _because someone got a word mixed up?"

Aria nodded. "Yup."

"Wow, and I thought _I _was screwed up."

* * *

There was one thing that Spencer refused to touch with a ten foot pole and that were the showers in the jail. Besides being filthy, she was revolted to learn that the inmates had to shower in full view of the jail staff.

Hoping to maintain a shred of what was left of her dignity, Spencer staunchly refused to partake in the daily shower experience.

Firmly clenching her jail-issued deodorant, she used that to make sure she still smelled fresh, even though her hair was oily and her skin had started to itch and flake, no doubt the result of stress, or the fact that she needed a good shower.

"You want to take a shower?" the guard asked, watching as Spencer lathered herself in the strawberry-smelling deodorant.

"I'd rather not."

"Come on," the guard said, opening her door. "It will only be me watching, I promise. No one else."

Eyeing her wearily, not used to that kind of low key attention, she followed the guard down the hall and to the area where the showers were.

"No cuffs or shackles?"

"If I thought you were going to try something, I wouldn't even be doing this."

"Good point."

Once they reached the showers, the guard handed her the soap and shampoo she would need to bathe herself.

The washcloth was freshly cleaned, and the water was even warm as she allowed herself to forget the humiliation and enjoy getting herself clean for the first time in days.

"Thank you," she said, once she had put her stripes back on, and was escorted back to her cell.

"You're welcome."


End file.
